


It's Gonna Rain

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Affectionate Males, Ambiguous Vanguard Dare, Angst, Bets & Wagers, Blood and Injury, Brotp, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Goodbyes, Humor, Reset Mechanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: Andal and Cayde make one last bet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I do enjoy torturing myself theorizing about the death of a certain Vanguard.

 

   "It's gonna rain."

   Cayde-6 tips his head up to glance at the sky. Their rendezvous spot is missing a large portion of roof but there's not a cloud to be seen through the gap.

   "Nothing but blue sky," the Exo chuffs at his companion and lays a weathered playing card on the floor between them. "You sure you're not just trying to throw me off my game?"

    Andal Brask's face morphs instantly. Dark skin settling into an easy smile, teeth peeking just between twitching lips. Hazel eyes glitter in the way that usual preceeds mischief.

   The human Hunter has always had an expressive face, so expressive that he makes a horrible poker player. If they weren't such good friends, Cayde would exploit the hell out of that. But, as is, Cayde tries to limit the cheating unless he's in pretty deep. Given the amount of visable teeth, the crinkle to the edge of half-closed eyes, Andal is finding something incredibly amusing. But a sentence hadn't passed between them for half an hour before the announcement of rain and that doesn't strike Cayde as particularly funny.

   Suspicion wiggles its way through Cayde and he checks the sky again while still trying to keep half an eye on the deck between them. Andal's not exactly a saint when it comes to cards either. Especially against Cayde. The slight of hand is hard to catch unless you keep your eyes glued to sneaky fingers.

   Cayde scoffs at the still beautiful sky. "Nice try, Brask. Must have a real lousy hand if you're resorting to mind games."

   "No mind games," Andal protests with a lazy grin as he draws a card and stares the Exo down. "Just letting you know. It's gonna rain."

   Cayde's eyes narrow in annoyance. He does not check the sky again. "We gonna finish this hand before the rest of the team gets here?"

   "Sure," the human responds with the same easy certainty.

   And damn if that doesn't put a bug under Cayde's armor. "Alright, Weatherman. You seem pretty confidant. You wanna bet on it?"

   The smile Cayde receives is answer enough.

 

 ----------

 

   Even when the first clouds roll in, Cayde is far from worried. He keeps his eye and his scope trained on the Vandal across the way. A thoughtful hum breaks through the silence of Cayde's radio.

   With a full raid team as his witness, Cayde shakes his head and mutters across the fireteam frequency. "It's not gonna happen, Brask."

 

  ----------

 

   Andal's laughter echoes across the street, the shell of a building sheltering the man while catching his voice and throwing it back at Cayde as the Exo scrambles through the absolute downpour turning the streets into rivers. Cayde stumbles over the remains of the brick wall, water flipping from his cape like a cat's tail. The rushing cacophony of rain dies down to a gentle hiss dulled by the roof overhead but that laugh rings in Cayde's audials as Andal grips the Exo's forearm and keeps them both standing upright in the slippery mouth of their impromptu hideout.

   A bit further into the abandoned space, the rest of the raid team grumbles and shake themselves dry- clearly not amused by the abrupt monsoon signalling an end to their mission.

   "I win," Andal quips, the satisfied grin audible even before he's wrestled the helmet off to reveal wide lips and bright teeth.

   "Congratulations," Cayde mutters sourly as he tugs off a sopping glove and pours rainwater directly over Andal's head.  

   The man only laughs. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

   "It's gonna rain."

   Cayde-6 tenses before his gaze flicks up and he dares poke his head over the seat of his sparrow to glare at Andal lounging against his own ride just a few paces away.

   The human hunter arches his brows as his smile grows. His helmet is tucked away, black hood tossed back to let the mid-morning sun warm dark curls. Flesh folds at the crease of each eye and one side of thin lips tweak up a little higher than the other in a barely suppressed snicker.  Brask is waiting to see what kind of rise he can get out of Cayde. If there's one thing that can send Andal into fits of laughter and sour Cayde's mood at the same time, it’s the reminder of that incident years ago when an entire raid team nearly drowned on a mostly sunny day. Andal’s made the same rain prediction a few times since- always on a beautiful day, hours before the weather hints at any change, and always infuriatingly accurate. Cayde, for the life of him, hasn’t been able to figure out the trick. The Exo refuses to verbally acknowledge the report, not to mention the teasing reminder it brings, and instead ducks down to plunge his arm back into the dusty underbelly of his parked sparrow.

   "We'd be back on the move sooner if you were over here helping me instead of watching the clouds roll by," Cayde mutters as he finally manages to wrench out the shock pistol lodged between the fusion engine and rear stabilizers.

   "You're always in such a hurry," Andal's sigh barely makes it to Cayde. "If you’d slow down once in a blue moon, you probably would've seen that Dreg in time to avoid it."

   "It jumped in front of me!" Cayde protests as he tosses the pistol disdainfully aside and mounts his ride. The sparrow purrs to life on the first try and Cayde mimics the sound in approval before scooping his helmet off the sandy Cosmodrome topsoil. "And there's not going to be any rain today."

   "Now you're the one who seems sure." Andal chuckles, swiftly summons the last of his gear, and wrestles it into place knowing Cayde will take off without him if given the chance. “You know you lose this one every time. What makes you so confident today?”

   "I checked the weather report for the whole region while we were still in orbit," Cayde’s smugness is only slightly muffled by his helmet. “It’s gonna be dry as thrallskin all day, my friend.”

   “That so?” Brask hums. “You wanna bet on it?”

 

\----------

 

 

   Cayde sighs at the dark skies beyond and stretches out a hand to trail through the wall of rainwater trickling from the lip of their cave as if to verify that he really is seeing this. "How the hell do you do that?"

   Andal Brask’s laughter flickers around the cave like the light of the campfire drying their cloaks. "A master never reveals his secrets. You should leave your sparrow out for a little while, by the way. Rain’ll wash off that god-awful streak of Fallen on the front."

   “Does your Light act as some kind of water radar?” Cayde shakes the last droplets from his hand and resumes pacing the tight circle his boots have marked into the soil.

   “Aww, you figured it out,” Andal hisses in mock disappointment. “That’s me. The first Light-powered dousing rod. Brought back to life for the sole purpose of warning the humble masses when it’s time to bring their laundry indoors. Did you know I was raised in a puddle? On Mars? The first rain Mars had seen since the Collapse. Or maybe it was a puddle of Cabal spit. Who’s to say officially?”

   “It’s really not that bad,” Cayde contemplates the rain as he allows Andal’s most recent ridiculous tale roll right off his back. “I think we should keep going.”

   “There you go again, Cayde.  Run, run, run.” The tutting noise echoes around the cave and causes the Exo to roll his eyes spectacularly. “You know, one of these days, you’re gonna learn you can stand in the same place for more than five minutes and still enjoy life.”

   “I prefer to be out there living it.”

   “Yeah, but you’ll get wet.”

   Cayde stares long and hard in disapproval at Andal’s deadpan literalism. The human’s eyes light up, that easy smile twists. He’s being dull on purpose, messing with his partner, and they both know it.

   "Come sit down.” Andal breaks the moment with a good-natured sigh and pats the rock at his back before lacing his hands behind his head and sliding down to get more comfortable. “It'll let up in a minute or two. Just enjoy a moment without guns blazing. Besides, I won the bet so I get to call the shots and I say we're staying until it stops."

   The Exo reluctantly yields, practically crumbling to a seat across the small fire. After a long, boring moment of staring into the flames, Cayde snorts. “Revived in a puddle of Cabal spit, huh?”

   “Explains why I’m so slick, doesn’t it?”

   Cayde cannot help but laugh right along with Andal.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, the previous Hunter Vanguard is not cannon. We have no idea how long the City has been up, how long we've had Vanguards, how long their terms are...we know nothing. lol
> 
> Now a note about Light and reviving Guardians.
> 
> When Guardians raise another Guardian (in the field or Revive-enabled Crucible) I always get the feeling that the party reviving is not doing the brunt of the work but simply offering their Light to expedite the revival process (since your Ghost forcibly brings you back at the end of a timer-which could be the amount of time you can be dead before your soul/engramatic data/whatever is rendered in some state that can't be reconstructed.)  
> This helps cement the idea that Light is not infinite within a Guardian or Ghost and that extra Light is drawn from the world for things like supers and that, in a Dark enough zone, a Guardian could very easily run out of Light. Think missions where Revives are unavailable and death results in mission failure. Now imagine a Guardian (probably a Warlock) in that Dark situation siphoning Light from another Guardian to the second party's detriment- endangering and possibly extinguishing that second Guardian's Light. Horrible right?
> 
> The concept of Resetting revolves around the idea that, while Light can heal a Guardian, it is slow acting compared to a Revive when a Guardian pops back up with full Life and nifty shield. In cases of severe injury, it could be beneficial to force a Revive (killing the Guardian by choice) to get back into a fight faster. Think of a Reset as a tactical suicide/mercy killing.
> 
> So now that you're in my headspace, let's go.

   “It's gonna rain.”

   A stunned silence follows and, eventually, Andal tears himself away from his inventory- visor rising in Cayde’s direction- and he chuckles.

   “Did you just…” the human Hunter begins and the Exo can hear the moment an incredulous smile strangles the sentence even if he can’t see it behind the helmet.

   “What?” Cayde shrugs and slips the last bullet into the barrel of his handcannon nonchalantly. “You were about to say it, weren't you?”

   “Well…yeah, actually, but how did you-“

   “I know you, Brask. We're sitting outside an incredibly hot spot of Hive activity doing a final weapons check and you just inhaled.”

   “Inhaled?” The snort sounds funny encased by reinforced glass and metal.  “You know humans breathe, right?”

   “No, no,” Cayde objects, sealing the chamber of his handcannon with the flick of a wrist, and wagging a finger in Andal's visor. “You _inhaled_. This big-“

   Cayde tries to mimic the move but without a diaphragm or lungs, the best the Exo can do is raise his shoulders and puff out his chest in a highly exaggerated display before slumping in the mimicry of the exhale that typically follows. “That! You let everything get all quiet and then you do that thing and then it's always 'It's gonna rain.'” 

   “For one: I don’t sound anything like that horrible impression you just did. The hell is this old man voice you’re giving me?” He raps armored knuckles smartly against Cayde’s own protective helm in retaliation. “And two: …I do not do that breathing thing...do I?”

   “You are every bit an old man, Brask. And you’re challenging my knowledge of you? How many missions have we run together?”

   Andal's glossy, black visor tips back and a gloved hand rises to start slowly counting- a finger for each mission. Cayde’s voice box crackles and he playfully shoves at the counting hand the same moment Andal breaks into easy laughter. They both know four hands between them wouldn't begin to count all the strikes, raids, patrols and collection missions they've embarked on together. 

   “Ok, so I'll take your word on the breathing thing.” Andal shrugs helplessly and gives his hood a tug to ensure it’s secured to his helmet. “Heads up, by the way. Ghost is sending me some heavy readings from a scout not far from here. Way worse than we were briefed. We might be walking into a pretty Dark zone.”

   “I’m sure we’ve been through Darker,” Cayde tosses out his usual assurance and feels the human’s soft, approving grin. Cayde offers his closed fist and Andal bumps it with his own, side to side, forearms together in a well-practiced gesture of solidarity.

   It’s over in fleeting seconds- there and gone almost too fast to catalogue, but _something_ is wrong. Every joint locks and every spring compresses in the Exo’s body and it’s only after he notices the change in himself that Cayde can trace the reaction back to Brask’s own physical cues. There was no strength on the man’s end, the lightly armored limb flagging as soon as it made contact. It’s not much, but enough to startle a hushed name out of the Exo. “Andal?”

   Human chest and shoulders rise, less a purposeful breath and more evidence that the man has brought his mind back from the place it seems to wander more and more as of late.

   “I took the dare,” finally comes the unexpected response, a confession so quiet it could have been a wheeze of Brask’s respirator. Which, in part, is why it takes Cayde so long to respond.

   “The dare?”

   “THE dare,” Andal clarifies, helmet almost reluctantly dipping toward his partner. “I took the Vanguard Dare, Cayde.”

   Without helmets to obscure them, the Exo thinks he might be able to pick up a wry twist of a smile that reveals this is a particularly tasteless joke. At least, he wishes to imagine it. He knows his partner too well not to read the reluctance and the apology in the human’s stance, the dropped chin, the curled shoulders. Cayde shunts aside the cold bloom of doubt and responds with amused disbelief as if this is any other of the Hunter’s wild tales. “No, you didn’t.”

   Because Cayde would know if it were true.

   “I did.”

   Every inch of Brask mutely backs up the declaration. Even after a moment to let it sink in, Cayde can think of nothing to say that isn’t a violent betrayal of his own instantly bruised feelings on the matter. So he simply says, “Oh.”

   Andal Brask instantly sees through his oldest friend. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner. Shouldn’t technically be telling you now; Not until everything is final. But Old Lady Linn’s getting tired, Cayde. She’s already served two terms as Vanguard and I, well, I volunteered to take her place.”

   It is one thing to be propositioned, to accept the Vanguard Dare, even to lose and follow through with the consequences. It is another thing entirely for a Hunter to clip their own wings. Cayde can hear the difference roughly highlighted in his own voice. “You grounded yourself. Willingly.”

   “I _volunteered_ , Cayde.”

   Cayde allows his feet to lead him, to jerk him away from that reality if only for a couple steps. “You’ve lost your mind.”

   And damn is Cayde furious he didn’t see the moment it happened. There are facts that, only in hindsight, Cayde might be able to see as warnings. Like the fact that Andal has always been the one who pushed them to complete missions to Vanguard specs even where Cayde would see an extra sweep or beacon placement as utterly unnecessary. Or the fact that Andal’s feet are always the first to touch down upon their arrival in the Tower and the last to leave when the Hunters depart. There’s the fact that Andal keeps up to date on every broadcast of faction politics when Cayde would just as soon delete the files to make room for more Crucible commentary on their ship’s hard drive.

   “I mean...” a weary sigh slips through the human’s respirator, “I’m not gonna be anything next to Linn, but I think I can do it. I think I might even be little good at it.”

   Through their visors, Cayde can feel the weight of Brask’s stare. There is expectation and an unspoken desire for something the human has never asked of his Exo partner. Andal Brask is seeking assurance of his own ability and maybe even Cayde’s approval. Grudgingly, Cayde-6 admits the fact that while their lives may be closely bound by years spent and blood spilled together, there is a larger truth: Andal would make an excellent Hunter Vanguard. The man is impossibly likeable- even when calling the shots, his abilities are on par with any of the current Crucible champions, he’s thorough in a mission, and selfless to what Cayde considers damn near a fault. Andal could be better than excellent. He could be the best. That doesn’t mean Cayde wants to forfeit their partnership any longer than the minimum Vanguard sentence. There is a fine line between supporting Andal and supporting Andal’s decision.

   “Yeah,” Cayde nods slowly as if he’s only now coming to some conclusion on the matter, “you’ll do ok, I guess.”

   Despite which side of the support friend/support friend’s decision line Cayde managed to land on, Andal knows this is one of those all too rare moments when Cayde means more than he says as opposed to saying far more than he really means. The human’s smirk is loud and clear. “Only ‘ok’, huh?”

   “Well, now you’re just fishing for compliments,” Cayde grumbles in a sour bid for levity and kicks off their forward march into the Hive tunnels lacing beneath this section of Old Russia.

   Andal chuckles as he easily catches up. “Compliments? I don’t know if I could handle compliments from you. I usually play to outwit so your silence is the real ego boost.”

   Mutual relief resonates from the easy way they drop the subject of the Vanguard Dare. Cayde counts on the mission ahead to keep him distracted from one final truth: Cayde hasn’t imagined card games and missions and life itself without Andal’s sly smiles and tall tales and he’s not yet sure how he intends to deal with the looming reality.

   “Hey, you gonna take it?”

   Cayde slides a few rough inches down a steep cutaway feeding deeper into Hive territory when the sudden question shatters what little focus was devoted to his footing. “Take what?”

   “Uh, The Bet,” the human shrugs open-palmed like the answer is obvious. “The Rain Bet.”

   Cayde snorts and waves away an unnecessarily helpful hand before summoning his Ghost to light the inky blackness that imposes like a wall just a little further down. “Well, I'm getting real sick of being wrong on this one….but it'd be a shame to break tradition now. Andal Brask, I accept your notoriously unwinnable Rain Bet. May today be the day you finally lose.”

 

 ----------

 

   The shot punches Cayde in the shoulder, completely out of nowhere- a green and white meteor from the black surrounding them. The blow shatters his shields as easily as the ancient, marrow-stripped bones crunch beneath his boots. Cayde spins with the impact and hits the ground hard enough that the roar of the hidden Knight is overshadowed by the crunch of his own frame against the floor. Someone shouts and it might be Andal’s warning a little too late or the Exo’s own cry of surprise.  Splintered bone and carved earth blur together as something malfunctions in Cayde's head. He tries to shake off the hit but that only increases the static in his head and sounds begin to distort- the usual bark of Andal’s handcannon reduced to muffled pops that sound rooms away even though Cayde can sense the wall of Andal’s Light is protective and close. Cayde tries to rise but his arm isn't simply struck, it's gone. He fights down the Exo equivalent of shock, rebooting and overriding systems in rapid succession as they scream his body’s distress. The air trembles with the warped sound of a second shot from a Boomer and, as static begins to clear, Cayde can finally make out the patches of chiton stirring in front of his face illuminated by the weak blue glow of his own cracked visor before a wave of sickly green rolls in from behind.

   Green is washed white as Light breaks free with a heat that repels even the oppressively frigid air of the Hive breeding ground they’ve stumbled into. There's a grunt of pain just above Cayde. Andal's name sticks in the Exo's mouth, buried under static. Two shots scream out and the Knight responds with a gurgling whine as Golden rounds tear through it. A third round does not fire. Instead, the last chunk of pent up power scatters like a startled flock of birds as Andal crumples, armored knees striking the packed earth before the human Hunter falls back. The labored wheeze of a respirator echoes breathy agony in a now otherwise silent chamber.

   By the time Cayde pushes himself upright, dark stains are beginning to bloom on those parts of Andal’s torso and arms not protected by heavier armor. Basic atmospheric readings pick up the severity of the Arc charge and Cayde can only surmise the degree of his fallen partner’s burns for that much blood to have soaked its way past charred skin.

   “Damnit, Brask!” Cayde snarls, sick to his core but too scared to let it come out sounding like worry.

   “You couldn’t take a second shot,” Andal argues shakily as he pulls his own wet fingers away from his abdomen for inspection. “It’s too Dark down here. Would have been the end of you.”

   He is right. Though Cayde is losing enough lubricant and circulatory fluid from his missing appendage to make final death a (far off but very real) possibility, the Exo is still not as fragile as human flesh and bone. “You didn’t have to stand in front of the damn shot!”

   Weak but amused, the whispered retort filters through a respirator. “Do I look like I have a magic bubble?”

   A buzz rises from the far side of the room, the frenzied chittering of lower Hive echoing in tunnels and chambers beyond the cold, rock room where Cayde and Andal both tense. A distinctive Wizard scream banishes the last opportunity for Cayde’s snarky come back. “We have to leave.”

   “Cayde, I can’t-“

   Before Andal can finish his protest, which likely meant to end in some kind of outrageous self-sacrificing sentiment, Cayde scoops his remaining arm under his partner’s and hauls the human upright. Andal cries out and staggers, nearly dragging them both back to the floor.

   “You have to,” the Exo growls even as he mentally begs forgiveness for physical torment that would be unforgivable if the alternative wasn’t imminent, permanent death by Hive swarm, “because you know if you don’t make it, then neither do I.”

   It’s enough to make the human find his feet again. Thank the Traveler for Andal’s selfless nature and Cayde’s practiced ability to exploit it when necessary. Once the two have arranged themselves into a haphazard side carry, they begin limping out of the Darkness.

 

\----------

 

   He hears it before he sees it: the steady drip. Cayde squawks in a noise equal parts shock and relief. “You’re kidding me!”

   Following only the barest hint of Light, the Hunters have travelled carved Hive tunnels that eventually fed upward through concrete and steel of man-made structures leading to this room with its cracked tile floors and weathered consoles all in a row. The drip is louder, closer.

   “You hear that?” Cayde asks the slumping form under his arm.

   Andal says nothing and Cayde picks up the pace, forcing his failing legs to follow the sound until he finds a staircase in the corner- beads of water welling sluggishly from a crack in the ceiling before falling to strike the first step. Cayde never has been, nor does he think he will ever be, religious. But in this moment, he comes mighty close to thanking some deity. As he mounts the first step, his Ghost pops up in a shower of matter.

   “We’re getting close!” The Ghost urges. “I can make radio contact now that the Darkness isn’t so heavy.”

   “Call anyone,” Cayde grunts as he stumbles, barely catching himself against the wall, “The first you find. How about Revives?”

   Blue light flares in the cramped stairway as a quick scan washes over the entangled mess of Hunters, assessing injuries and available Light simultaneously.

   “Ghost!” Cayde growls when the answer doesn’t come immediately.

   “Keep going.”

   And, oh, it is not fair for Ghost to whisper like that.

   The stairs only become wetter as they climb and the single steady drip gives way to a symphony of little _plops_.  Once they make it to the top, it becomes clear they’ve found an ancient command center for space-bound shuttles. The most telling evidence being the long line of dusty viewing windows with a direct line of sight on a launch pad and a dilapidated shuttle listing against its tower- rusted metal a burnt orange in the fading light of the setting sun. The whole tableau means very little compared to the steady fall of rain visible from the same windows or the intermittent drops that swell and plummet from the fractured ceiling overhead.

   “This is it,” Cayde mutters as he aims his feet for the center of the rain-slicked floor.

   “Wait!” Ghost objects vehemently. “The Light is still weak here. I don’t think there’s enough for the both of you.”

   “There’s nowhere else to go,” the Exo gestures to the room around them with a distinct lack of other exits. They’re on the top floor and Cayde knows his body is well past its limit, imminent shutdown notifications batting at the back of his mind like flies. He tries to kneel by the room’s sole console but instead accepts his crumbling crash to his knees with as much dignity as he can. He manages to lower the rest of Andal a bit more gently to the ground before finding the latches alongside the human’s jaw and fumbling off Andal’s helmet. Only without the protective armor is Cayde even sure the man is still breathing. Cayde casts his own cracked helm aside. By the time Cayde can see again, a dark cloud has unfurled around Andal's unconscious body- blood carried by the pooling rainwater beneath him.

   “Andal, we’re going to Reset.” He pats blood and rain soaked fingers against the human’s cheek hoping to rouse him for just a moment. They’ve done this a hundred times but always with a warning. All he gets is a flutter of eyelids. Cayde pulls out his handcannon anyway and places the barrel against a sweaty temple. Andal’s Ghost appears, standing by for the Revive with its own Light flickering in silent worry.

   “Your death is unacceptable, Cayde. I won’t let you do this.”

   Cayde blinks at the quiet steel in the comment before turning, bewildered, to his own Ghost. “What?”

   “I told you there isn’t enough Light for both of you! We don’t create Light, we draw on it, Cayde. Even up here, it’s still dim. If we revive Andal, that Light comes not just from the space around us but from his Ghost and from me. It comes from you. There won’t be enough for a second chance. Even attempting his Revive could drain you of what little Light you have and kill you instantly. Right now your Light is stronger, you stand a much better chance of survival. I won't help him, Cayde. I won’t lose you to save him.” His Ghost’s central Light burns with a fierce intensity rarely seen outside of battle.

   Every second he delays puts both Hunters closer to death but the idea that only one of them will make it, and even that's not guaranteed, starts that churning unease in Cayde's chest. It becomes too much after a moment, the gravity of it all, and Cayde sighs. “You’re making this difficult, Buddy.”

   Ghost goes for the low blow. “You know he would want you to live.”

   Cayde watches for the rise and fall of breath in the battered body in front of him. Faint but there, still alive. Gently, he sets the handcannon in his lap so that he can use his remaining hand to brush wet curls from Andal’s still face. Even with the setting sun slanting through the windows and falling over the both of them, the human’s face is incredibly pale. It would be nice to see that sly smile one last time.

   “I know he would want me to,” Cayde admits as he regrips the gun, “but the sentiment goes both ways and the last man standing gets to make the decision. Andal lives.”

   The Exo’s Ghost begins to object and Cayde shuts it down immediately by placing the mouth of the handcannon under his own jaw and aiming upward, finger wrapping pointedly over the trigger.

   “I’ll do it as many times as I have to,” he warns his Ghost. "I'll do it over and over- right until the moment the Hive catch up to us- and then none of us will make it. Is that acceptable?"

   The single blue eye darts about, searching the Guardian’s face for an alternative, before the small frame quiets and hovers low in defeat. Even Andal's Ghost mirrors the altitude. Sadder than a couple of kicked puppies.

   “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.” He manages to stroke his sullen Ghost with a free thumb, gun still in hand.

   There’s a commotion below, an explosion that probably signals the destruction of the single functioning door Cayde and Andal had passed through three floors down. The assumption is immediately strengthened by the shriek of that damned Wizard. It took a lot longer to catch up than Cayde had reckoned on but not nearly as long as he’d hoped. “We have to push the Reset. Don’t- don’t let him linger. Get him up and take him straight out the window if you have to, ok?”

   The ungodly screech of Hive barrels up the stairway and Andal’s face finally shifts.

   “Hey!” Cayde nearly jumps out of his frame at the sight of dark eyes cracking open but immediately makes an effort to keep himself sounding calm. “Hey, we’re gonna Reset.”

   Andal mumbles a sound that’s either the tail end of an affirmative or the beginning of Cayde’s name before eyelids give up the battle and close again. Cayde takes a second to make sure there’s a round in the chamber, he’d hate to ruin this by calling attention to them without finishing the job, and places himself between Andal and the door so the Hive might at least be slowed down by the extra body.

   Andal’s brow scrunches as a raindrop breaks free from the ceiling and crashes against his forehead. Cayde closes the cylinder and the human's voice cracks, barely discernible, over the encroaching raucous. “Cayde...are you…crying?”

   The Exo pauses just long enough to watch a second drop fall from the ceiling and strike Andal’s cheek.

   “No, moron,” Cayde huffs affectionately, “it’s your damn rain.”

   Andal exhales. Amost a laugh. "I win."

   The edges of thin lips twitch upward. Cayde pulls the trigger.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

   “Still mad at me?”

   Cayde lets his silence answer for him and punctuates that silence with the harsh scrawl of pen across paper as he signs a form and slaps it on top of an already generous pile of similar forms.

   “I don’t advise skimming through those,” Andal keeps his voice light as he edges cautiously closer to the desk where Cayde seems intent on setting some kind of record for completing the Vanguard’s introductory paperwork. “Like this one. By signing this one you’re agreeing to-“

   The Exo yanks the paper out from under Andal’s finger as he attempts to point out an important clause- not even a well-hidden one but one that Cayde could not have possibly read in the single second it took to scribble something that looks more like a lazy x than anything that might resemble a signature. The gesture steals what little false cheer Andal has been holding onto in the face of Cayde’s prickliness.

   Andal straightens from the desk- his desk, soon to be Cayde’s desk- and tucks his left hand behind his belt. “You don’t _have_ to be here.”

   “I lost the dare,” Cayde tosses out with half a shrug that doesn’t interrupt his breakneck signing spree. “Honor-bound and all that nonsense.”

   “Cayde, you’re miserable and you haven’t even started.”

   “Of course I’m miserable!” Metallic limbs jerk explosively in frustration before sweeping over the polished wood in front of him to highlight. “I’m sitting behind a desk- a desk, Andal- signing my life away to the Vanguard and you’re getting ready to jet off to the Reef without me! I don’t think misery is unreasonable here.”

   Andal swoops under Cayde’s dramatic gesture and spirits the stack of yet-to-be-signed forms to the opposite side of the desk where he lays a forearm protectively over the pile giving Cayde nothing to focus on but their conversation.

   “It’s not your whole life, Buckethead,” Andal smirks affectionately. “You just gotta serve the minimum term.”

   “That sounds exactly like prison,” Cayde sulks as he slumps back in the chair and drops his pen unceremoniously onto the desktop.

   Andal tries to ignore the tiny divot the metal nib scratches into the surface. “The Tower is not a prison.”

   “No? I thought you just used the phrase ‘minimum sentence.”

   “I did not.”

   “You sure?”

   “You’re more than a hundred years old, Cayde. What is one term as Vanguard in the scope of your lifetime?”

   The Exo falls quiet, genuinely considering the thought. Andal eases up on the stack of paper.

   “I didn’t do this to punish you, Cayde.”

   “Then why did you do this to me?”

   Blue-lit glass stares accusingly. Andal thought they could get through this with just a couple of jokes, maybe a little reassurance, a word or two of advice if Cayde were feeling particularly cooperative. Now Andal can see this isn’t just the Exo’s usual stubbornness. Cayde is hurting.

   After a moment, Andal sighs. “Cayde, this isn’t an easy job. Everyone will be counting on you. You’ll have to choose between the inconceivable and the impossible. You’ll lose people. So many that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to sleep again. Vanguard is a terrible job and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Especially not you. But you’re the only one I trust to do it.”

   The Exo sinks a little deeper into the Hunter Vanguard’s chair and affects a sullen stare. “Your flattery needs some work.”

   “I mean it.” Andal rests a hip against the desk. He picks up the discarded pen, rubs at the little divot. “You’ll be doing real good work. Guardian life isn’t just about shooting at random. Somebody’s gotta say where to point and when to pull the trigger. Trust me, a few weeks in and you’ll see just how important the Vanguard is. And I promise it’s not all bad here in the Tower. You’ll have Amanda just a short walk away. You know I pushed for her promotion partly because of you, right? You and Banshee got that sneaky repertoire. Your fellow Vanguards aren’t too shabby either. You’ll finally get to work with Ikora. She’s so great, Cayde. She’ll teach you things you had no idea were even things! And if you can get her relaxed, she’ll tell you the best damn Crucible stories you ever heard. And Zavala! He’s…well he’s got some qualities it wouldn’t hurt you to pick up on.”

   Blue optics pin Andal with a glare for that last remark but the Exo seems largely pacified. When Cayde swipes the pen from Andal, it is to twirl the tool idly between two fingers.

   “Ok,” the Exo grumbles as he switches gears, “but why do you get to go to the Reef? You’re still the Vanguard for like six more months.”

   “True,” the human smirks that wide-lipped, white-toothed smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “But we both know Variks always liked me better.”

   Cayde snorts static in the back of his throat but does not deny it. “Ask a four-handed alien a legitimate question about how it picks its nose _one time_ and you’re blacklisted for life.”

   “Normal people start with a self-introduction,” Andal reminds his incorrigible friend.

   “Normal people never ask the important questions,” Cayde clicks in distracted but, mostly, joking disapproval.

   “ANYWAY, once you’ve signed the last of these,” Andal pats the remaining pile of forms before sliding them back to their original place in front of Cayde, “you’ll officially be next in line for the Hunter Vanguard and I’ll be cleared for diplomatic missions beyond the Tower.”

   “I thought you loved serving in the Tower. Even with all the…sleepless Vanguard junk.”

   “I do…”

   “…but?” Cayde squirms almost gleefully having found any sort of reluctance to the Almighty Good Boy Andal Brask.

   “But,” Andal continues with a wince, “I miss firing a gun in someplace that’s not a shooting range.”

   “Ah,” Cayde agrees with a hint of sympathy.

   “And I miss the way sparrow engines echo in the empty ships on the Forgotten Shore.”

   Cayde nods and hums appreciatively.

   “And I miss all those crazy games we used to play against each other. I miss betting on the weather.”

  Cayde opens his mouth to interject his well-worn hatred for all that rain business but Andal is not finished.

   “I miss hunting with you, Cayde. I miss it like crazy.”

   The pen comes to a full stop between Cayde’s fingers and the Exo focusses long and hard at the shimmer of blue ink that mars the side of his index finger. “You’re supposed to be making me want to stay here, Brask. You’re kinda doing the opposite.”

   Andal laughs but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry.”

   Not just for failed persuasion. It hurts to see Andal like that; remorseful, uncertain.

   Cayde lets the remaining pages of the Vanguard contract flutter quietly as he cards them between forefinger and thumb. Andal’s spent years in meetings, behind desks. Maybe it’s only fair that Cayde steps in to get his friend back out in the wilds where Hunters belong. “You better visit me here more often than I did you.”

   The responding laugh is genuine and carries no grudge. “I don’t have the same aversion to white stone that you do. You can bet you’ll see this old mug hanging around.”

   Cayde nods, thankful beyond words for that.

   “Then, when your term is up,” there’s a spark of adventure back in brown eyes as Andal leans in conspiratorially, “we'll hit the Vault.”

   “The Vault?” Cayde asks wary of a joke. “As in the glass variety?”

   “Is there any other kind?”

   “You’ve always said no to the Vault.”

   “Well, that’s because alternate timelines and rewritten realities give me a headache but now I’m saying yes.”

  A quiet moment of consideration passes easily between them. Then Cayde shrugs the tiniest bit- the kind of gesture that usually means ‘you know I’d rather hear how this Rumble match ends but go ahead and patch into New Monarchy’s live broadcast because I know you want to’ or ‘everyone else is at the bar but you’re obviously not feeling it so let’s bail.’ Now it means, “If that’s how you want to apologize for stealing years from my drifter lifestyle, you bet I’m gonna hold you to it.”

   The human offers his hand and Cayde shakes it to seal the deal.

   “Vault of Glass it is,” Andal grins.  

   One extra squeeze and then their hands drift apart. Cayde puts pen to paper but this time his scribbles look almost like a name.

 

\----------

 

   “You said this was a diplomatic mission,” Cayde hisses and nearly clips Andal’s heels as he follows the departing Hunter Vanguard too closely.

   “It is.” The protest is short. The longer he talks, the worse Andal is at telling a lie after all.

   “Then why are you taking so many heavy ammo synths?”

   Andal stops just shy of one of the Tower’s Vanguard-allocated jumpships, his brow scrunched and mouth sagging in a frown. “Did you look at my ship manifest?”

   “No.” Cayde answers honestly though he absolutely would have if he’d caught wind of things earlier. “Banshee let it slip.”

   With a longsuffering sigh, Andal directs his Ghost to open the ship’s side door and deposits a small crate just inside to be dealt with momentarily. “Alright. So it’s a bit more your standard idea of a ‘diplomatic mission’ than mine.”

   “We do not serve the Reef.”

   “That’s not what I’m doing.”

   Four Guardians approach with various crates and bags in their possession, obviously headed for the same ship, but Cayde does not let the appearance of Andal’s team deter him from trying to put a stop to the mission in its entirety.

    “All the private conversations. Holding Hunter intel from reports. You think I haven’t noticed any of that while you’ve been training me for three months? You’re hunting something for the Queen.”

   Andal shakes his head in mute objection and rubs at his fresh sidecut. Even the haircut riles Cayde. The buzzed sides and trimmed curls up top are a classic mission look. A look Andal was not sporting just this morning when he said his goodbyes and swore he’d be too busy to do so closer to departure.

   “Cayde, Variks tells me Mara Sov is thinking of opening the Reef to Guardians. If I’ve got to shut down a little Fallen to make that happen, I dare say this mission is about diplomacy.”

   “Does Ikora know?”

   A moment of silence passes before Andal turns back to the crate, pushes it into its proper place, and begins securing it for the journey to Venus. Not the Reef as Andal had _lied_ over and over. “Possibly.”

   “Zavala?”

   This prompts an even longer pause before the human admits, “No.”

   “What the hell, Brask?”

   “I don’t know every detail of Ikora’s Hidden,” Andal points out with an infuriating calm as he steps from the doorway to allow more of his chosen crew to stock the ship. “I don’t know every stone in Zavala’s wall. They don’t know every mission the Shadowsmiths undertake. It’s called compartmentalization. This is not as big a deal as you’re making it.”

   “Then let the Shadowsmiths take care of this,” Cayde snaps as he sidesteps a Warlock to keep Andal squarely in view. “There are other Guardians. Ones who haven’t been sitting behind a desk for the last umpteen years.”

   “Such confidence,” Andal quips with a pained wince.

   “You know that’s not what I-“

   “It has to be me, Cayde. ‘A personal show of the Vanguard’s strength’- that’s what the Queen wants. I’ll be gone three days, tops. And it’s not as if I’m going alone.”

   Andal gestures broadly to the four other Guardians scattered in and around the ship making preparations.

   “But _I’m_ not going with you,” Cayde growls. The distinction is everything.

   “Because you’re Vanguard now!”

   A Titan with a rocket launcher resting casually over his shoulder pauses at Andal’s outburst. A second Titan pokes her mirrored helm out of the ship’s gaping door and a Warlock joins her before a Hunter springs from seemingly nowhere and forces the two out of sight. The hanger is painfully silent for a beat. Andal wraps a hand around Cayde’s upper arm and leads him behind the ship at a pace that leaves Cayde’s boots scuffing the floor. Cayde expects them to continue with heated words once they’re a bit more out of sight but Andal releases his hold on Cayde’s bicep, drops to a crouch, and motions for the Exo to join him instead. Cayde follows slowly until they both rest huddled together on their haunches, a pose that was all too familiar during stealth missions in the wilds and one that sends a shock of nostalgia through Cayde so hard it nearly bowls him over.

   Sharp eyes take in every inch of Cayde’s face, just looking, thinking, before Andal ever opens his mouth again.  “Remember that time we went looking for a Wizard in the Cosmo and wound up in breeding grounds?”

   Cayde shudders. “I hate that memory.”

   “Not me,” Andal shakes his head.

   “You almost bit the big one!” Cayde counters. Even now the thought makes his hands clench atop his thighs.

   “Almost,” the human agrees with a slow nod. “But I didn’t. Because you were there.”

   “Because we got lucky!” Cayde stresses. “Because some Guardian on patrol happened to get the distress call and just _happened_ to be close enough we could siphon enough Light to get us both back up.”

   “But even without that stroke of luck, I would have lived,” Andal insists. “You would have died for me.”

   “Well…yeah,” Cayde readjusts on his haunches, startled and confused before he reiterates with absolute certainty, “Of course I would have. You know I would have.”

   “Then why is it so hard for you to do this for me?”

   Cayde cuts power to his overheating optics, blinking dully. “To do what?”

   “To _trust_ me.”

   “I-“

   Andal halts Cayde with a single raised hand. “You don’t. Or you wouldn’t be here trying to stop me. You wouldn't be trying to talk me into taking you.  _Trust_ me to do this mission. _Trust_ my decision to leave you in my place.”

   “But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

   Dark eyes blow wide before the Vanguard drops his chin and rubs it as if Cayde’s accusation had been a punch to the jaw.

   “You’re right,” Andal comes back from the hit with a shake of his head and a new strength of conviction. “You’re absolutely right. I’m a hypocrite. Will it work if I say that I’m sorry?”

   “Tell me what you’re really doing and I’ll accept your stupid apology,” Cayde bargains grudgingly.

   Andal nods slowly as he works himself up to breaking multiple personal oaths of silence on the matter. “I’m going hunting.”

   Cayde fixes his old partner with a particularly obvious look. “I already knew that much, Brask.”

   “Fine,” Andal throws up his hands in mock surrender. “There’s an Archon Priest missing from the Queen’s prison. Taken by a Fallen mercenary, big guy by the name of Taniks. Between the Reef and our scouts, we’ve tracked Taniks to one of his bolt holes on Venus. Variks has handed us the opportunity to go in before the Queen’s forces and, if we return the Archon, we’ll prove our good intent to the Queen. We need allies, Cayde. Desperately. We gain new Guardians every day but we’ve lost so many. I don’t know when or how, but someday, having the Awoken on our side will mean the difference between extinction and one more chance. I have to go.”

   “You don’t think Zavala and Ikora would jump at the opportunity to open up the Reef?”

   “Teamwork’s great. I really mean that, Cayde.” The way Andal glares from beneath his brow seems like a personal warning for Cayde even though Andal is the one about to slip away on a secret mission. “But sometimes you gotta take care of things yourself and fill in everyone after the deed is done.”

   Sound Hunter logic.

   “And them?” Cayde nods back toward the ship, indicating Andal’s crew. “I don’t know any of those Guardian’s you’re taking with you.”

   “They’re excellent. All of them. I promise.”

   Cayde would like to object further- to say anything that would cause Andal to stay or at least take him along- but it would only be further insult. He does trust Andal. It’s just that he does not trust the rest of the universe to go along with Andal’s plan.

   “What am I supposed to tell Ikora and Zavala?”

   Andal holds a single finger to his lips. “Don’t tell them a thing. You just play dumb and I’ll tell the whole tale when I come back victorious in a few days.”

   “I always thought I was the bad influence,” Cayde mumbles to his knees.

   A double-sized grin splits the human’s face. “You are. Where do you think I found the audacity for this little excursion? I thought ‘what would Cayde do?’ and here I am.”

   Before Cayde can fashion a proper retort to such perfectly believable slander, Andal pats the Hunter’s flank reassuringly and rises to his feet. “I gotta get going. Hit while the intel’s hot, ya know?”

   The Exo nods his grudging agreement and stands as well. Andal offers his closed fist. Cayde meets it with his own. He wants to tell his friend to be careful. Instead he looks Andal in the eye and offers an assurance. “I’ll stay here and keep your spot warm.”

   “Thank you.” The human means it with a warmth and sincerity that reminds Cayde why he's proud to call Andal his best friend. “See you soon.”

   All the supplies have been stowed, Andal’s crew has retreated into the ship, and the hanger looks depressingly stark as the Hunter Vanguard jogs off to join his party.

   “Hey!” Cayde calls out before the black and red cloak fully disappears into the mouth of the doorway. “Shoot a couple bad guys for me.”

   “Anytime,” Andal promises with a grin and a salute so lazy it would have made Zavala frown.

   Side doors seal and Cayde wonders if this is how Andal felt every time he was forced to stay behind. The Exo steps well and clear of the ship’s rear thrusters as they begin to hum and has moseyed all the way to the exit by the time they kick on. By the time Cayde makes it out of the hanger, the ship’s takeoff is barely a dull roar sweeping through the hall that leads to the Tower’s open courtyard. Cayde stops when the first breeze tickles the sensors of his face. Carefully, he squirms a finger beneath his collar and between protective plates to rub soothingly against a fuel line that seems fit to burst. Rahool eyes Cayde wearily but the Exo isn’t in the mood for much in the way of chitchat or pranks. Idly, Cayde wonders if Banshee would let him hang out behind the gunsmith’s tables for a while. For, say, three days. Tops.

   “Cayde.”

   “Hm?” The Exo replies intelligibly as his Ghost pops into existence.

   “You have an incoming message.”

   “Patch it through,” the temporary Hunter Vanguard vents heavily. It’s probably Zavala already wanting to know why Cayde isn’t in the Hall of Guardians.

   Ghost chirps as he completes the connection and a voice comes through.

   “Hey, Cayde!”

   The Exo cannot help the bright spot that blooms in his chest. “Didn’t we just say goodbye?”

   “Yeah,” Andal chuckles. His voice sounds as if they are standing to-to-toe. “But I almost forgot something important!”

   “What’s that?”

   “I meant to tell ya that it’s gonna rain.”

   Cayde stops, deflated, in the middle of the courtyard. Shielding his eyes from the worst of the sun’s glare, he tips his head back to take in beautiful blue above. A warm breeze ruffles his cape as he affects a suffering sigh.

   “But not today,” Andal corrects with a disgusting level of amusement.

   “Oh?” Cayde queries with genuine curiosity. This is an unprecedented spin on their bet. “Then when is it going to rain?”

   “Before I get back.”

   “In the next three days? Your prediction’s a bit broad this time isn’t it?”

   “Maybe,” Brask chuffs through Cayde’s Ghost, “but this way, I know you’ll keep your eyes on the sky.”

   Cayde shakes his head. He fell right for that. Andal’s ship skims into Cayde’s periphery- already dwindling to near unrecognizable size as it climbs upward. The Exo tracks it as he snorts softly. “You know I would anyway.”

   Andal replies, his grin soft but audible. “Yeah, I know.”

   “By the way, what do I get if you’re wrong?”

   “Wrong?” Andal spits the word like it’s a sour grape.

   Cayde takes great delight in the possibility. “If it doesn’t rain before you get back, then I win the bet. So what’s at stake?”

   Various suggestions come from what can only be Andal’s crew in the background- things ranging from the promise of new equipment to Andal’s completion of humiliating tasks. All of which, sound like pretty solid ideas but the Hunter Vanguard hushes his team.

   “Anything,” Andal promises after a pause.

   Cayde whistles as he stares at the patch of sky where the ship finally disappears. “Anything, huh? Well, you are sure gonna regret that in three days.”

   The Venus-bound crew laughs.

   “We’ll see,” Andal suggests with a wicked lilt. “Brask out.”

   One more shake of his head and Cayde gestures for his Ghost to cut the feed. He tucks his hands behind his belt and begins to hum as he makes his way toward the Hall of Guardians. And Traveler be damned if Cayde’s electric blues don’t flick at the sky twice more before he makes it to the stairs.

 

  ----------

 

   Less than eight hours after Andal Brask’s departure, Zavala’s inability to laugh at any of Cayde-6’s jokes has the Hunter convinced Andal’s promise of ‘anything’ includes pretending Cayde never took the Vanguard Dare at all. So Cayde takes solace in the fact he will no longer be confined to the Hall of the Humorless as soon as the proper Hunter Vanguard returns. Though, an hour later, Ikora accidentally cracks a smile.

 

   Less than twenty-four hours after Andal Brask’s departure, Cayde asks if the Vanguard ever tried moving the war table upstairs for open-air meetings. Zavala shoots down Cayde’s suggestion, even after the Exo offers to help do the heavy lifting.

 

   Less than forty-eight hours after Andal Brask’s departure, Ikora catches Cayde glancing out the window for the hundredth time and asks if he’s heard any news of the diplomatic mission to the Reef. Cayde redistributes his weight and makes up something about Awoken pride being a tricky thing. He feels Zavala’s scrutinizing gaze linger.

 

   Less than seventy-two hours after Andal Brask’s departure, Shaxx breaks the calm monotony of the Hall by loudly cursing one of his chosen Guardians in the Crucible and their staunch dependency on a combination of a short teleport and shotgun. Ikora looks Cayde in the eye and hints the Handler’s fit is colored by ‘personal experience.’ Cayde almost snaps his neck trying to catch Zavala as a chuckle slips past usually stern lips.

 

    Seventy-two hours after Andal Brask’s departure- on the dot- and the weather has been nothing but sunny, cloudless, gorgeous. Ikora asks if Cayde reads for leisure- he does. Zavala asks if Cayde has a scout he could recommend for an upcoming mission- he does. Cayde begins to think he’ll convert his victory promise into a new sparrow. Something super flashy for the moment he and Andal ride up to the Vault of Glass.

 

   More than eighty hours after Andal Brask’s departure, Zavala wonders aloud why the Hunter Vanguard has not announced his delay. Cayde jokes he must be waiting for storm clouds to roll in even as he commands his Ghost via neural relay to send yet another message. He receives no reply from Andal’s Ghost. There must be a limit to their range after all.

 ---------

 

   Ninety-two hours, eight minutes, and fifty-nine seconds after Andal Brask’s departure, the Hunter Vanguard’s ship signals the Tower in preparation for landing. For ninety-two hours, eight minutes, and fifty-nine seconds, the weather surrounding the Tower and the City has been absolutely perfect- nothing closer to precipitation than a little morning dew. Cayde drums an impromptu little number against the war table to catch the attention of the Warlock and Titan Vanguards before waving his data pad in the air.

   “Guess who’s finally back!”

   Ikora smiles, a soft and warm expression that Cayde is coming to appreciate for its rarity. Zavala nods in silent confirmation and the Exo can’t even find it in himself to be offended by the utter relief written across the Commander’s face. Cayde himself is equally relieved for the rightful Hunter Vanguard’s return. Cayde’s practice run as Vanguard has been easy enough but like hell is Cayde going to give up his last few months of semi freedom before Andal is officially released back into the wilds. More exciting than that- Cayde has finally won the Rain Bet! It crosses his mind to run to the hanger so that his smug face will be the first thing Andal sees as he steps off the ship but, just in case Andal hasn’t already thought it through, Cayde decides not to push the reunion and give his pal all the time he might need to figure out how to break the news of his covert mission to the other Vanguards. Gloating can wait until after they’ve discovered how Ikora and Zavala will take the news.

   A few minutes later, Cayde has already somewhat settled back into his current task of combing scouts’ reports when Zavala startles him.

   “What the devil?” the Commander breathes.

   Cayde’s gaze jerks up and then follows the Titan who is already in motion. He draws a trajectory between the Awoken’s smashed brow and a point beyond Cayde before turning to see where that disapproving glare is leading Zavala’s heavy steps.

   Slowly descending the stairs into the war pit is a member of Andal’s crew- the rocket launcher Titan. Cayde remembers that blue and white armor even though it is now cracked and covered in dark streaks. The man’s helmet hangs from his hand equally sullied. What would have been a fair face is carved deeply with trenches that frame his mouth and bisect his brow. The Titan makes eye contact with Cayde, flinches, and averts his eyes by the time Zavala is upon him.

   “What has happened?” Zavala demands in the way only he can. “Where is the rest of the Reef team?”

   The worn Titan tucks his chin and indicates the single form behind him- the female Hunter with a bundle clutched tightly to her chest.

   Cayde’s feet move of their own accord, boots falling silently as he bypasses the two Titans and gravitates to the Hunter. Dirt flakes from her temple, the remains of a careless touch or a moment of comfort, framed by silver hairs that have escaped the once tight bun at the back of her head. Her armor hardly fares better than the Titan’s between the clearly broken left pauldron and the soil that breaks up the monochromatic scheme of her gear. Her attention hasn't wavered from Cayde since the moment he was aware of her presence and, even with a pink complexion, her eyes are rimmed in painfully obvious red.

   “I’m so sorry. It all went wrong. Taniks...” Her voice is raw. She cannot finish. She swallows. “I knew you’d want this.”

   She offers Cayde the carefully folded item in her shaking hands. Cayde doesn’t quite grasp it- too numb- and the precious cargo unfurls a little before the female Hunter catches and brings the bulk of it back up to Cayde’s hands. The ends trail over his fingers, more tattered than he remembers. Black and red blur together in a minor optical malfunction.

   When his optics finally refocus, Cayde rubs a thumb carefully over a fleck of brown that leads to another and another until Cayde is mapping out a constellation of dirty starbursts across the fabric. In some spots, the material is darker and the soil smears instead of chipping away beneath Cayde’s attention. The cloak is still damp.

   Fresh, quiet tears well up and slide down the female Hunter’s face and turn the dried soil there back into mud.

   “It poured” she whispers, confirming what Cayde already knows in his gut, “on Venus.”

   On Earth, the sun is shining and the sky is clearer than glass but Cayde could not feel closer to death if it was the literal corpse of Andal Brask hanging from his hands.

   He has won nothing and lost everything.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [visit me on tumblr? :D](https://fox-fic-and-ink.tumblr.com/)


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